


Not Just Credit Fraud

by veritygrey (raventree)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cult of Winchester, Episode Tag, Gen, Law Enforcement, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 21:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raventree/pseuds/veritygrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchester case, according to some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Then

**Author's Note:**

> Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke, etc.

 

The look on Susan Tucker's face is a mixture of shock, disbelief and anger. It's a look that's become surprisingly familiar over the last eight months.  
 "You think they _murdered my mother_?" Her tone is familiar as well and after eight months of similar interviews, Henricksen can confidently say he has less than five minutes before Tucker throws him out of the house.  
 "Mrs Tucker, Dean Winchester is wanted for two counts of murder, not to mention numerous other charges. And just three days ago, Sam Winchester took out two SWAT guys during a bank hold-up." Her expression changes the minute he mentions Sam, and Henricksen realises his time just got cut in half. As a whole, the Winchesters fans made investigating them hard, giving conflicting statements, refusing to co-operate and generally obstructing the course of justice. Sam's devotees, however, were the worst. Dean's were usually younger, easier to intimidate. They just wanted to tame a 'bad-boy'. Sam's ran the gamut from Jessica Moore's ninety year old grandmother; who'd threatened to sue the Bureau, to an eight year old in Arkansas; who'd kicked him for telling lies about her friends. Sam's fans saw the floppy hair, the hunched shoulders, the dead mother/girlfriend and wanted to protect him.  
 "I think you should leave, Agent Henricksen"  
 "These boys don't need you help Mrs Tucker, believe me. They haven't done anything to deserve it." She stands, all anger now, and he knows he's said something wrong.  
 "Mrs Tucker..."  
 "Agent Henricksen, at the time you _claim_ they were, _murdering_ , my mother, " the same 'are-you-nuts?' tone as before, " Dean was with me, trying to break in to the pool-house. Sam was trying the door on the upper level. He succeeded. Sam jumped in the pool, from the balcony, with a broken wrist. He pulled my daughter out of the water. He saved her. They didn't kill my mother, they _saved_ my daughter."

 Henricksen checks his watch before unlocking his rental. Six minutes, from badge to blow-up. He sighs. One more follower of the god-damned Cult of Winchester.

 

 


	2. Before

 

 Officially, the case isn't a slap-down. In hindsight, however, it probably wasn't a good idea to call an ADA with friends in Washington a glory-hounding ass. Even if it is true. Officially, the case is complex, not violent enough to warrant an audit, too wide spread to give to a rookie. It's twenty years worth of ongoing credit fraud. And one grave desecration.

It's the last that make Henrickson stick with it. Credit cards he can understand, but digging up a corpse and burning it? He starts a map, there's too much information not to. First the cards, different colours for different companies. He starts looking for other crimes, unsolved crimes around the same times as the cards, and has to change all the pins in the map. Blue for fraud, red for desecration, yellow for impersonation. Usually one of each, sometimes with a green for breaking and entering, orange for arson. And almost always a black pin. The timings are off, the motel charges coming after the original murder, but it could be an attempt to throw off any investigation.

Henricksen stops going home for more than a few hours at a time, ignores suggestions to take a day off. They assign him a partner, a guy named Reidy. Henricksen's pretty sure he's got orders to make him take a break. It's four months before they get a name. Pure coincidence; the motel guy's cousin went to the same school as the suspect. The guy met him once, never saw the others. Recognized the car, knew it was the wrong name. Now they have the right name. _Dean Winchester_.

 

 


	3. After

 

Lisa Dupree was sixteen when an accident put her boyfriend in the ground and gave her a permanent limp. She was nineteen when she started pre-law and twenty-three when she applied to the FBI. She turned twenty-four the day she was accepted. Lisa was twenty-six when knowing Greek put her under the eye of a Bureau Auditor. At twenty-seven, she was working solo and at twenty-eight became a Field Auditor.  
Most bureau auditors review cold cases, rerunning prints, plate numbers and names, looking for leads to cases unsolved for months, years, even decades. It's a small department and field auditors make up an even smaller part of it. Field auditors review cases where agents have died. Where things have gone so bad, no one is willing to take the case. It's rumoured it was a field auditor who suggested charging Capone with tax fraud.  
This case had ended with two agents dead, not to mantion a county sheriff, deputies, a civilian aide and the two suspects. She'd heard of the case, of course. Impersonation of almost every federal agency existing, including FBI, police, even Homeland Security. Credit card fraud, grave desecration, B & E, theft, arson, murder. It's the map that gets to her. The investigating agents had tried to find a pattern to the crimes, sticking coded pins in towns across every state. Blue for fraud, red for desecration and so on. Twenty-three years, mapped out like some psychotic Where's Wally. She goes to evening mass that night, sitting in a pew, gripping the rosary with white fingers and praying for for those dead too soon.  
Lisa Dupree was sixteen when John Winchester rescued her from the black dog that ripped her boyfriend from his car and killed him. She'd curled up, bleeding despite the bandage he'd wrapped round her leg, on the front seat of his car. Listening to the stories he told to keep her awake, of the things he hunted and of his sons.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Australia, it's Where's Wally.


End file.
